


What He Couldn't Tell You

by Browncoattiff



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby (impala) - Freeform, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Crossover Pairings, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Holding hands in the impala, Homophobic John Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Mary Ships It, Mary Winchester Feels, Rimming, Sad Sam, Sam Ships It, Self-Doubt, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 21,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browncoattiff/pseuds/Browncoattiff
Summary: Set after 12x2. Mary and Dean have a conversation in the kitchen, and it makes Dean think about things in a whole new light. Warning, some abusive language (in specific, anti-gay slurs). Destiel, angst, eventual smut, lots of fluff.John Winchester abusing the boys will eventually be dealt with, as well as some other angsty stuff. Rated for a reason, as my smut tends to get a bit raunchy.Part 1 takes place after 12x02Part 2 takes place after 12x03Spoilers for season 1202 and 1203Kinda trying to focus less on plot and more on small individual moments between characters. I have no idea what I'm doing with this fic, but it's not really plot heavy. Hope you guys like it





	1. Chapter One: Dean

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where I am going with this fic, ya'll, I just got the idea for the first few lines and it all kinda vomited out after that. I have the intention of continuing it, I think? I dunno. Thoughts?

Dean could flirt with Cas; he could tease him, poke fun at him, and roll his eyes at every joke Cas never got. He could stare at Cas; could meet his gaze and hold it, reading all the love and lust in Castiel's blue eyes. Dean could hold him, letting his hugs linger, his grip too tight as he clung to his angel, letting his hand rest on Cas's forearm for a heartbeat too long, always letting go too soon. 

Dean could watch Cas; when no one else was looking, he could let his eyes roam over his loves face, could let himself imagine what those thick full lips that were always slightly chapped would feel like on his own. He could dream of Cas; letting him invade his most private places, seeking refuge in his presence, seeking comfort in his deep, gravely voice. 

Dean could pretend; he could call Castiel his brother, he could feign that the love was familial, he could convince himself there was nothing more to it... Until he closed his eyes at night, and it was Castiel who swam through his mind. 

Dean could pretend that the boys he flirted with as a young boy and a teenager were just childish antics; that John Winchester hadn't raised up faggot. He could pretend that the thought of his father knowing the feelings he had didn't terrify him. He could pretend that Castiel hadn't turned the notion of childish crushes to something more; something profound and deep. He could pretend that Cas hadn't single highhandedly made him better, stronger, and more capable than ever; that the angel's pure unbridled love hadn't made him strive to deserve it. 

He could pretend that the image of Lucifer wearing his angels skin hadn't made him feel physically ill, and that he didn't worry for Castiel every time he didn't contact him for a few days... but he couldn't hide his relief every time he heard from Cas again. He couldn't control the fantasies that came unbidden to his mind every time he toyed with himself, and he couldn't pretend that those fantasies didn't make him cum harder than he ever had. 

Dean couldn't think of Lucifer taking over his love's body without bile rising inside of him. He couldn't find words to describe the relief that flooded him when Amara threw the abomination from his angel's body... he couldn't help but wonder if she had perhaps done that for him. She had always maintained that she was fond of Dean. 

He couldn't forget the words of the sweet old lady, Mildred, hadn't struck a chord when she told him he was pining. He couldn't pretend that when he sat in a confessional booth, his mind hadn't wandered to Castiel, and the words "Recent events made me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And I don't know; there's things, there's people, feelings that I-I want to experience differently than I did before, or maybe even the first time." had come from his lips. Dean couldn't deny that it was the closest he had ever gotten to admitting out loud that his feelings for the angel were real, they were there, and they were eating at him in ways that he had never experienced before. 

Dean couldn't pretend that Sam didn't know, he couldn't pretend he didn't see the sidelong glances and questioning looks. He couldn't deny that seeing his love for the angel, portrayed through song on a stage of young girls, had made him feel defensive and flustered. He couldn't deny that it bothered him, that others seemed to so easily see what he tried so hard to hide. 

More than anything, he couldn't pretend his mother wasn't staring him down right now, and he couldn't pretend she hadn't just asked him the question he was most terrified she would ask. 

"So... you and Castiel." She had started. 

"Yeah, I told you, he's an angel." Dean answered, as none comically as possible. 

She gave him a pointed look, a quiet questioning frown crossing her features. "That's not what I mean, Dean..." 

Dean wrinkled his brow, looking at his mother in question. "You mean... oh, no. I mean, he's Cas... he's a brother to us. He's some of the only family I have but no, no nothing like 'that'... I mean... no." He answered quickly, flustered and his face turning red. 

A small smile played at his mothers lips. "Oh, I see..." She answered. "Well, I guess I just thought I saw something else then." She paused for a moment, watching a dozen things cross over her sons features. Fear, confusion, and embarrassment contorted his features. He was such a strong man, self assured and confident and powerful. She had never wanted the hunters life for her boy, but here he was, and regardless of what he did she was proud of him. He had saved the world more than once, and as his mother 'proud' didn't begin to cover it; but she would have felt the same if he had become a car mechanic instead. "You know." She told him, tentatively reaching her hand out and taking her sons, squeezing his fingers lightly. "I would love you either way." 

Dean felt himself flush again, color rising up his neck as he almost choked on the bite of sandwich he had just taken. He chewed vigorously, sweat beading at the nap of his neck as embarrassment flooded him. But it was more than embarrassment; somewhere in the back of his mind, something clicked. He wanted to deny that it mattered at all, but hearing his mother say she would love him either way made something flicker inside him. The fear of what he was, what he was feeling, what he had always been afraid of letting in, all seemed to fade a fraction. 

He forced out an awkward laugh. "Well, thanks, mom. I'll... uh... let you know, if anything changes. 

Mary Winchester smiled. "You do that." 

Dean nodded, and pretended like the conversation didn't strike a chord deep within him; in a place he had ignored even existed since his father first uttered the word 'faggot' in his presence when he was young. 

Later, when the bunker was quiet and the night had settled in, Dean couldn't pretend that his mothers words didn't reverberate in his mind. He couldn't pretend that the last image that floated through his mind as he drifted off to sleep was azure eyes and a tan trench coat.


	2. Chapter Two: Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be playing with narration a bit, just kinda having fun writing drabbles with this right now.

Castiel could kill; he could feel the cool of the blade and the hot sticky blood as a life force ended in his hands. He could be merciless, when he had to. He could fight; putting his body and life on the line time and time again, if it meant that others were safe. He could doubt; though once upon a time he couldn't. 

Cas could pretend that he didn't know; could turn the other cheek, shift his eyes away, rub at the back of his neck every time Dean stared at him with that lust filled gaze. He could pretend that he couldn't read Dean's thoughts and feel every feeling he felt. Every high, every low, every fear, every doubt, played along Castiel's conscience every time his hunter was near. 

Cas could shut other human's out; he could ignore their thoughts, their emotions, their prayers. He could close his heart and his mind; but he couldn't pretend to ignore Dean. The hunter cried, and the angel came running. Castiel couldn't deny that he was caught forever in the constant ebb and flow between lust and love and insecurity. 

Castiel had tried, he had tried so hard to shut his hunter out. He tried so hard to ignore the hunger he felt for the human; the love that threatened to overwhelm his very being. The harder he fought, the further he fell. When Dean prayed to him, it was his sirens song, and Cas always went running. 

Cas couldn't forget the horror of seeing Dean with black eyes; his fear when Dean towered above him, angel blade in hand. He had known for months, maybe years that the hunter had felt something for him beyond what he had admitted out loud; perhaps even in his own mind. The moment the blade struck a book and not his heart, Cas knew for certain, he knew his love was returned. Whatever part of Dean that still existed, it couldn't kill the man he loved. Not even the Mark of Cain could make Dean kill him, and Castiel knew that. Only love could overcome something so ancient and dark. 

He couldn't pretend that seeing him alive when he was so sure he had really done it this time; when he was so sure he had seen his love for the last time, hadn't nearly undone him. Only realizing that Mary Winchester had returned from the dead had kept the angel from falling apart entirely; the magnitude of her return far more pressing than his overwhelming relief. 

Castiel couldn't deny that for far too long, he had loved the older Winchester. It wasn't that angel's were incapable of love; on the contrary. Angel's loved perhaps too well; so well it consumed them from the inside out. They protected their hearts with a stoic outer shell because when they did love, they went mad with it.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he realized he loved the human. Perhaps it was the moment he had ripped him from hell, leaving his mark behind. Perhaps it was when Dean foolishly plunged a demon blade into his heart. 

Perhaps it was sitting on a park bench, where Cas admitted out loud such treason that should he have been overheard, he would have been put to death without trial--he had admitted to doubting God. It was the first time he had rebelled, but certainly not the last. Dean had inspired that in him, and for that he would be forever in the hunters debt. 

Castiel couldn't forgive himself for Lucifer. He knew, ultimately, that releasing Lucifer was a mistake. He had thought for a brief moment that he was useless; easily disposed of and forgotten. Knowing that Dean fought so hard to keep him and his vessel safe had touched him to his very core. 

He couldn't deny that the Winchester had stolen his heart, and that he would never be so fiercely loyal to anything again in his life. 

Castiel also knew, deep down inside, that he couldn't ever love the hunter the way he wanted to. 

He knew that Dean WInchester could never know he knew; that every thought and fear and doubt he had reverberated through the angel, making him love the hunter even more. 

He knew that his Dean would never let love in that way, he knew he had to watch from afar, and love him the way Dean would allow. He knew he had to be cautious in his love, because someday, eventually, Dean would die. He was a human, whether it was now, or a year from now or when he was old and wrinkled; Dean Winchester was going to die.

Castiel was not. 

He could ignore the voice in the back of his mind that whispered, "love him anyways, love him anyways." At least for a moment, he could ignore it. He could put it aside, knowing deep down that the hunter was not ready for his love. 

Castiel didn't know if he could ever face the loss of his love, though he knew eventually someday he would, and the thought ate at him more than anything he had ever experienced before. More than the thousands he had killed, the angels, the humans, the demons. He had faced countless wars, feasts, famine's, plagues, the end and beginning of new ages... nothing in his existence scared him more than the knowledge that someday his hunter would die, and Castiel couldn't ever follow him where he went.


	3. Chapter 3: Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, cause I really enjoy the addition of Mary to the show. I want to play with each of the characters a little, so this fic may end up being more about a collective unit than Destiel exclusively. Sooo here goes!

Mary had heard of being brought back from the dead before; a lifetime of hunting had brought its stories with it. She had heard whispers of it happening before, once or twice... but never after 33 years. Strangely, it occurred to her that her sons were now older than her. She felt new in her body, like every emotion and reaction was delayed a half a second; but she was getting better. 

Her moods shifted less, the confusion that used to all but overwhelm her had ebbed, and she was getting comfortable in her new life. She could still hardly believe the ways in which the world had changed; the technology alone was astounding... but more than anything she wished her boys had stayed far away from hunting. 

She picked the leather bound journal off the nightstand, flipping through the pages that held the words of John Winchester. Mary didn't know what she had expected when she picked up the journal... but what it held inside for her was not it. She spent night after night flitting through the pages; reading her husbands words about the world she had fought so hard to protect him from. 

Mary kicked herself sometimes, she should have known that John would try to avenge her death; she should have known that it would cost him his life. Hunter's expiration dates had a tendency to fall a little on the short side, which is why she wanted out in the first place. John was stubborn, though. 

Something was weighing on her, though. She noticed every time she brought up his name, the boys fell quiet. She noticed through reading his words that the boys were rarely mentioned, and she wondered what they were avoiding telling her. Mary knew she should press, she should ask the questions but something in the back of her mind whispered to her. 'Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to.' It was something her father had used to tell her, his hardened heart never held much warmth for anyone, and that was his advice more often than not. 

Sometimes she really didn't know if she wanted the answers to those questions; in her mind she remembered John as her husband, the man who loved her more than life and worshiped her two boys. Part of her didn't want to let go of that image; but already a new image was starting to form. Her husband, the stand up marine that made her young heart beat fast, hardened and gristled like her father. Her husband, putting the hunt ahead of her children's lives, ahead of their happiness and their well being.

She cursed, tossing the book back on her nightstand and walking away from it. It made her heart hurt too much, seeing the signs of his abuse across every feature on her sons faces. The relief they had in her presence, and their refusal to talk much about her late husband had told her more than she wanted to know already. 

Mary sighed, straightened herself, and headed to the kitchen. Sam already sat there with a cup of coffee in hand, staring at the laptop computer in front of him. 

"Mom!" He exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat. "Do you need anything? Can I get you coffee? Tea? Anything?"

Mary laughed at her youngest, shaking her head. "I can grab a cup of coffee, I promise." Sam was a fascinating subject for her. He had been a baby when her life had been taken, so small and fragile... not at all like this full grown man in front of her. She watched as he settled back in and gave a small laugh, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "What's up, Sammy?" She said, the sound of his kid name coming from his mom making his face soften for a moment. 

"Just looking at this case, seems like maybe our kinda thing." Sam said, tilting the screen so she could see. 

"Four found dead, kidneys and lungs missing... authorities suspect black market organ trade?" She finished, wrinkling her brow and shaking her head. "Well at least that hasn't changed." She muttered.

Sam's confused expression followed. "What hasn't?" 

Mary smiled slightly at her younger son. "Law enforcement is still completely incompetent when it comes to monsters." She finished. 

Sam nearly spit his coffee out as a very Dean-like smirk stole over his mothers features for a moment. "You're not wrong." Sam agreed. 

"So..." his mother started, staring at him with a quizzical expression. "Who was she?" She finally asked. 

Sam started, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he shifted them away. "Who was who?" He avoided. 

Mary gave him such a knowing smile as reached her hand across the table, taking his hand in her own. It occurred to her that her sons might not be the best at talking about their feelings. She could only hope that a mothers love might soften that; even if it was maybe 33 years late. "The one who died... Dean told me. He didn't seem to know much about her, though. I just... who was she? What was she like?" 

Sam blinked several times, trying to stem the tears that welled there; leave it to his mother to get to the heart of the matter after knowing him less than four days. "Her name was Jessica..." He started, unable to help the hitch in his voice as he said her name. He shifted in his seat, releasing her hand and digging in his back pocket. Sam grabbed his wallet and flipped it open, searching through several different cards and ID's before bringing out an old photograph. It had obviously been through a lot, the edges were worn and singed in places, one corner warped like it had gotten wet... and in the center of it was a beautiful young woman. 

"She's lovely." Mary said, and she meant it. Her heart ached for her son; from what Dean said, this beautiful young woman had all but ruined Sam for any other that came after her. She was the straw that broke his proverbial back. She smiled warmly at her son, "tell me about her." 

Sam closed his laptop and cleared his throat.


	4. Chapter 4: Sam

Sam Winchester was in love, had perhaps always been in love, with a dead woman. There had been others since her, Amelia got the closest to his heart, but it always came back to one; to Jessica. To the point that still, 12 years later, when he was tortured and forced into magical hallucinations, he still saw her face. It was her face that haunted him; her face that caused him so much pain. 

She had been the only thing he ever loved as much as his family. When she died, the hope he had for a normal life away from hunting died with her. 

Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know what she would think of him now. 

"Sometimes I am scared I'll forget her face..." Sam started, and then there it was, the image of her on his ceiling, going up in flames, the sound of her screams, the panic in her eyes... Sam took a deep breath. "Sometimes I wish I could forget." 

His voice choked and he rubbed at the spot on his hand that comforted him, scar after scar after scar having built up there from the many times Sam had put his own blade to his flesh to keep his mind sane. Mary's warm smile encouraged him to continue. "She was beautiful, and smart, and kind. She was so damn, smart." 

He smiled, the image of her in her comfy pants and a tank top, no bra, with her hair in a bun and her glasses on as she poured over some textbook for class. It felt like a hundred lifetimes ago. "She was in law school with me, wanted to major in environmental law." 

His eyes softened; he hadn't talked about these things in years. "She was going to save the world." He laughed, and Mary laughed with him, wiping tears from her cheek. With a suddenness that surprised him, emotion nearly choked him. "I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for what happened to her, mom." He squeezed the spot hard, willing the tears from his eyes. 

Mary felt emotion rise within her, forming into a lump in her throat. She swallowed around it and pressed her hands into his, to still his nervous motions. "Sammy, you're allowed to let your heart break, sometimes." She felt his hands squeeze down on hers, and she gripped him back hard. 

"Sammy, what happened to her wasn't your fault. It was a pissing match between a bunch of dickhead demons and angels. It wasn't any of our faults we got dragged into their little game of 'make the monkeys dance'." Came Dean's heavy drawl from the corner. Sam jumped, his hand flying to his face to wipe away the tears there. He felt like he got caught, but Dean just looked at him and rolled his eyes. 

Sam glowered at his brother; it wasn't like Dean was super forthcoming with his feelings, at least not with him. Sam had the distinct feeling that when Castiel was around, Dean was perhaps more open than he was with him. It wasn't that Dean didn't love him; it was that Dean would never see him as anything but a younger brother, something to be saved and protected. It didn't seem to matter to his stubborn older sibling that he was actually over 30 years old and capable of taking care of himself. 

Still, when his older brothers large hand clasped him on the shoulder, a small smile quirked his lips. Mary watched the exchange in silence, every interaction between the boys giving her a clearer picture of their lives. 

Sam had a feeling the woman didn't miss much. 

Dean dug through the fridge and came out with bacon and eggs, and Sam had to smile. Like Dean needed to impress his mother, he had made nearly every meal since her return from the dead. As Dean placed a skillet on the stove and turn the burner on, Sam turned back to his mother... the spell of their moment broken by his brothers intrusion. He sniffed, stowing the rest of that conversation for another day. 

He popped his laptop back open and pulled up the news article he had been reading earlier. "Think I got a case for us, some weird shit is going down in South Carolina." Sam said, turning the screen to his brother. 

Dean walked over, a bowl of cracked eggs and a dash of milk in one hand and a whisk in the other. He watched as Dean's eyes scanned the page. "Yeah, that looks like our kinda weird."


	5. Chapter 5: Dean

Dean was in the midst of perfectly flipping a pancake when Castiel appeared in kitchen. He let out a string of curses as the half cooked batter landed with a splat on the floor. His eyes narrowed at the angel, whose wide innocent look made him even more flustered. "Dammit, Cas!" He stared down at the foot or less between them, his heart hammering hard in his chest; half from adrenaline and half from Castiel being so close to him. 

"Sorry, Dean." Castiel said, taking a step back, putting space between them. His eyes flicked around the room, before settling on Sam and Mary. 

"Good morning, Castiel." Mary said, a small knowing smile playing across her features. 

Dean placed another dollop of batter in the pan, groaning internally when he caught a look between his mother and brother. So, fuck it, maybe they both knew. Maybe they had even talked about it before, when he wasn't around... the thought made him uneasy. 

"Am--Am I interrupting something?" Castiel asked in his awkward questioning way.

"Not at all!" Mary covered quickly. "Please, sit, sit." 

Dean watched as the last bubble popped on the top of his pancake before flipping it into the air, catching it with the skillet with practiced perfection. He turned to the table, grinning proudly while Sam rolled his eyes. 

"Show off." His younger brother smirked at him. 

Dean glowered. "Bitch." 

"Jerk." Sam said, and then both of their eyes softened and they smiled. 

Mary watched the scene with a quizzical expression. "Don't worry," Castiel interjected, looking at her very seriously. "They don't mean them as the terms are meant to be used. It's their weird way of showing affection." He assured her. 

Mary laughed out loud, nodding in thanks to Cas, who looked somewhat proud of his observation. "Thanks, Castiel, I was really worried there." She answered him in playful sarcasm. 

Dean rolled his eyes as the joke went right over his angel's head. "You're welcome." The angel answered. 

Dean snorted, and Sam did his best to hide his laugh; Castiel looked between them utterly baffled. Unable to hide it any longer, Mary burst out with uncontrollable giggles.

"What?" Cas asked, narrowing his eyes. 

"Nothing." Dean told him, clasping his hand down on his friends shoulders after he placed a large plate of pancakes on the table, along with a bowl of scrambled eggs and a mound of bacon. His palm felt warm where it sat on the angel's shoulder, but he let it linger there for a moment longer than he perhaps should. "You just stay you, Cas."


	6. Chapter 6: Castiel

Castiel was surprised to find himself in the front of the Impala; the younger Winchester having decided to take the back with his mother. He could have zapped himself to the small town in a heartbeat, but the Winchester Matriarch had asked him to join them on the trip-- and he wasn't about to turn her down. 

He glanced into his mirror, seeing Mary sleeping with Sam slumped against her shoulder, unconscious to the world. 

He knew, the way he always knew with Dean, that something was off. At breakfast he had been almost too irritated, and at the same time too affectionate. Cas kept getting the feeling he was the butt of some joke he didn't understand, but it was more than that; Dean was less guarded than before. He was letting his fingers linger, holding Cas's gaze for a heartbeat longer than he normally would. 

That frosty wall he had built around his heart had melted, just a little, and Cas didn't know what to make of it. He tried very hard to not hear the hunter's thoughts, the closer they were in proximity to each other, the harder it was for him to stop it from happening. Cas knew that if Dean knew he could do this, he would never trust Castiel again. It wasn't that he even did it on purpose, he often tried to resist it happening, but ultimately he nearly always got sucked in. Being so near to his hunter was at times a torment he could never explain. 

Dean cleared his throat, clicking the volume of some classic rock song up one more notch, before resting his hands on the wheel again. 

Cas had noticed that Dean was quiet that day, aside from the occasional sarcastic barb, he had been content to sit in silence; as if he was just trying to abosorb the ones around him, soak them in just listening to them talk. 

Somewhere an hour back, Mary had fallen asleep. It wasn't long before Sam followed her in suit, leaving Dean and Cas in awkward silence. Cas waited in vain for Dean to break it, but Dean seemed stubbornly silent. 

Dean glanced at Cas, and their eyes met for a brief moment. Cas was always surprised by the little jolt of electricity that ran through him when his hunter met his gaze, as if the very sight of him might ignite Castiel's core and he might burn to pieces right there. 

Cas eyed Dean quizzically, understanding dawning on him at once. It was her, Mary, his mother, that had inspired this slight change in him. Cas could feel it happening, Dean's aura shifting and reforming as his mothers presence influenced him. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that Amara had done them a great service, sending Mary back to her boys. 

Dean shifted in the drivers seat, taking the wheel with his left hand, his right coming to fall loosely at his side, palm up. 

It was an awkward way to sit, though Cas could see he hadn't done it consciously. Cas tried to ignore it, tried to tear his mind away from long slender calloused fingers, but for some reason he felt a pull. It was a moment before he realized that pull was coming from Dean, somewhere deep inside. 

Without really thinking on it too long, Castiel reached out, his fingers lacing through Dean's. Dean didn't look away from the road, for a moment he didn't move, stiff, like a startled animal. Slowly, Castiel felt him relax, the slight pressure of Dean's fingers closing around his own. They continued their trip in silence, every once in a while, Cas would rub the palm of his thumb across Dean's hand in slow soft circles. Dean would respond with a squeeze of his fingers. 

It was so oddly important to Cas; this moment. He felt he had waited for it for perhaps too long, hoping that Dean would finally, blessedly, let him in for real. The way he wanted to love him. It was such a small, juvenile act, sitting hand-clasped in the front seat of the Impala... and yet the very act made Cas's heart beat faster. 

Could he sweat, he imagined he would be right now. Judging by the slightly clammy quality Dean's skin had taken, he didn't have the same luxury. 

He had a feeling he was going to have a lot to thank Mary Winchester for.


	7. Chapter 7: Mary

Mary was jolted awake by a pothole, she blinked a few times in surprise. She suppressed a yawn, immediately getting the feeling that she was intruding on something she wasn't supposed to. He skin prickled with the tension, the eerie silence that fell between her son and his angel. She kept quiet, peeking at them through hooded eyes. She looked between their faces, both of them seeming determined to avoid each others gaze. She squinted in wonder, when she saw it, in the middle of the seat, their fingers laced together. 

Mary smiled to herself, and closed her eyes the rest of the trip, as to not disturb their moment. She knew the way they looked at each other, she knew what it meant. She had seen two people in love before, and it chilled her to the bone to think that Dean was too afraid to let it in.

Love had cost her everything, but Mary knew if she had to go back and do it again, she would pick John every time. She also knew that her boys had unresolved issues with their father, something she fully intended to pry into at the soonest opportunity. For now, she contented herself with breaking down the barrier between her and her sons. 

She could see in Dean, that though he had fear and doubt and insecurity; perhaps all he has really needed was a little push. A little love and comfort in this cruel world can go a long way. She had been gone for so long, and she could see in their tired faces that they had been through a great portion of their lives without enough love in them... she intended to rectify that as soon as she possibly could. 

So Mary kept her eyes closed, only finally opening them when she felt the engine cut off and Dean cleared his throat loudly. When she opened them again, Dean's hands were behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck furiously. Castiel looked out the window, his features contorted in contemplation. 

She wondered what he thought about, but decided it was better not to ask. Instead, she formed a little plan in her head. It was late when they arrived in South Carolina, all hunting would have to wait until morning when the morgue was open again. 

Mary shook Sam awake gently; smiling quietly as her youngest, who was now bizarrely older than her, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. She gathered her bag over her shoulder, grinning genuinely when Castiel removed it from her shoulder after a moment and threw it over his own. 

"Thank you, Cas." She murmured to him. 

Castiel nodded, having seen the gesture in a movie; he was rather pleased to see that it made Mary happy. 

The foursome made their way to the hotel, Dean humming quietly while they walked. 

Mary stepped up to the register first, one of the many credit cards the boys had given her clutched in her hand. 

"Two rooms for tonight, please. One king sized and one with two queens." She informed the front desk clerk. The lady nodded as she handed over her card. 

Dean narrowed his eyes, sensing something amiss in her plans. 

"Sammy, why don't you stay in the double queen with me." Mary told her youngest. "I don't want a room to myself... I've already almost died twice and I've only been back a week." She said, very seriously. 

"Uh, mom, shouldn't Cas and I have two queens as well?" Dean said, eyeing his mother with unshielded mistrust. 

"Don't be silly, Dean. Castiel doesn't sleep." Mary informed him, a wicked knowing grin crossing her features. 

Castiel looked between the mother and son, confused. "She's right, Dean. I don't sleep, I have no use for a bed." 

Sam felt his lips quirk in a small smirk, watching his older brother try in vain to convince his stubborn mother to any other sleep arrangement. There was no convincing her other wise, and with a small victorious smile, she came up with a reason to evade any excuse Dean tried to create. 

Dean glowered, grabbing his bag off the floor and the plastic key card off the table. He knew what she was doing and the thought of it aggravated him. He wondered if this was what it was always like to have a mother around. 

Mary grinned as her son and his angel left for their room, and Sam grabbed her bag off the ground. 

Sam was unable to help the laughter now that Dean was out of sight. 

"What?" She said as she slid the key card into its slot. "They needed to talk." 

Sam quirked his brow, still chuckling at his moms very motherly antics. "Nothing, I've been trying to get those two together for years." Sam assured her, following her through the door to their room.


	8. Chapter 8: Dean

Dean slammed his bag on the bed in frustration, letting his hands run through as Castiel followed him into their room. It was small, close quarters, and smelled of the one thing he wanted to think of the least in that very particular moment. It made him want to pace. 

"Dean, what's the matter?" Cas asked, as Dean rolled his eyes; of course Cas didn't see the set up. 

"Nothing." He grumbled, but he stilled his movements, flopping himself down onto the bed. "Just my mom being a mom... it's something I don't know if I will ever get used to."

Castiel watched his hunter stalk the room and flop down in defeat. "Is this because she asked us to stay in the same room together?" 

Dean grumbled, there was only one thing worse than when Cas didn't see the issues, and that was when he did. For someone who let every reference fly over his head, he certainly picked up on human interaction fairly well. A fact that both bothered Dean and made him wonder how much more the angel picked up on that he didn't say. 

"No." Dean answered automatically, glaring at Cas's unconvinced stare. "Maybe... I don't know, Cas." 

Cas sat on the bed next to him. "Is it because I held your hand in the car?"

Dean closed his eyes, one hand coming up to rub a the bridge of his nose. The truth was; he didn't know what his problem was, other than his mother had just manipulated a situation so obviously and outwardly that it made him grind his teeth. But then he thought about her, remembering her words at the kitchen table the night before. 'You know I would love you either way.' Her kind eyes and easy smile ran through his mind and he knew he couldn't stay frustrated. He sighed, finally opening his eyes and meeting Castiel's steady gaze with his own. The angel's blue eyes were always like a shock to his system, so deep and blue and full of compassion. 

"No, Cas. I've just had a lot to take in the last week." 

Castiel quirked his head to the side, a gesture that always made a small smile play on Dean's lips. "Talk to me." His angel commanded. The phrase, which he had directed towards Cas on more than one occasion, shook him to his core. 

"Cas..." He started, staring out the window, watching as cars passed on the freeway. "I don't think I know what I'm doing." Dean answered, it was as honest as he was willing to be. 

"Dean, remember the advice I gave you a few days ago?" Cas continued as he noticed Dean frown. "Don't make things needlessly complicated, as you humans usually do... I think this applies to your fears right now." 

Dean leaned forward, realizing he was sitting just inches from his angel, their knees nearly bumping into each other. He could feel Cas's warmth seeping through the leg of his pants, and he realized he was sweating though their room was cold. Castiel stared at him, searching his eyes in that way that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "And what are my fears right now, Castiel?" Dean asked. 

Castiel's gaze searched his face, landing briefly on Dean's full, plump lips before meeting his eyes again. Without thinking, Castiel closed the distance between them, the angel pressed his lips tentatively to Dean's. 

It was as if a thousand things ran though him at once; Dean's body felt completely electrified by Cas's touch. His eyes went wide the moment the angel's lips touched his, and he hesitated a moment, freezing in the same way he did in the car. Decades of fear and insecurity had built inside him, and he wanted to resist this as he had always done. It was hard to leave behind a lifetime of conditioning; but Castiel's lips felt so soft and warm and welcome on his own, it was only a heartbeat before he was kissing the angel back. Slowly, methodically, he closed his eyes, tilted his head, and let the angel in. 

Dean gloried in the feel of him, so warm and solid beside him, making him feel clean and dirty all at once. He soaked Cas in, reveling in the way the angel's stubble rubbed him raw around his mouth, the way his hands came up to rest so gently on Dean's shoulders as he drew him closer, his fingers tangling in the hunters dark golden locks. Cas's lips were somehow soft and firm all at once, and Dean couldn't suppress the delicious shiver that traveled down his spine when he parted his lips and he felt the light, caressing touch of his angel's tongue along his own. He felt Cas take in a shaky breath, felt his angels hands pulling him closer, as if he was as desperate as Dean felt for more contact. 

Dean let his arms come up on their own volition, wrapping around Cas and digging into the angels back as their mouths clashed, their tongues danced, and their breathing became ragged and gasping. Dean let his hands wander, traveling over Castiel's clothed body, feeling the rock hard muscles hidden beneath the layers and layers of clothes. He groaned, wondering vaguely why he had ever stopped himself from feeling this before. As Cas's fingers traveled down his cheeks, his throat, his chest, settling finally at his hips, Dean wondered what the hell he had been so afraid of all this time. 

As Castiel pressed Dean back into the mattress, his mouth still persisting in its constant assault of the hunters, Dean let himself go.


	9. Chapter 9: Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters will likely be nothing but m/m smut so if you're not into it I would suggest leaving now. For the person who messaged me inquiring whether a Mary/Sam something or other is happening here the answer is a resounding no from me. Ya'll write whatever fics you want but incest will never do it for me ;) Anyways!! Enjoy your male smuttiness. I hope you like.

Castiel would never know what possessed him to kiss Dean Winchester; all he knew was that it would either the best thing he ever did or the worst. Perhaps it was because for the first time, he could truly feel, all the way down to his bones, how badly Dean had wanted him to. 

They had flirted with the notion before; they had toyed with it, teased the idea, more than once. Dean would look into his eyes, and his gaze would flash to Cas's lips and he could feel the thought cross the human's mind. Always, always, followed by the immediate deflection. As soon as he felt Dean's desire he felt it shut down, snuffed beneath the heel of John Winchester's ghost. 

Dean seemed to have the ability to see right down into Castiel's soul; though the angel didn't technically have one. Cas would look at him, he would feel the flash of desire run through the hunter, would feel him consider it, and then the wall. Always, always, the wall went back up. 

When Dean froze the moment their lips met, Cas worried that it would be the last time he ever saw the hunter. His stomach jumped up into his throat, his lips pressing nervously against his loves, as he waited for the wall... and then suddenly he felt it happen; he felt Dean melt. Outwardly, Dean's response to Castiel's touch had been shy, controlled... like he knew what he was doing. Inwardly, Castiel felt wave after wave of emotion flow through his hunter. Fear, insecurity, doubt, love, lust, passion, everything all at once and then the crash of overwhelming electric desire. He swelled and shrank with his love, his heart filled with the same insecure desperation as Dean's; the same need to have his love reciprocated, the same trembling fear of rejection clouding his mind. 

It happened all at once, one moment, he was towered above Dean, his hands gripping into the front of his favorite green jacket. His lips moved across the hunters with slow practiced motions, and then he was on his back, his trench coat ripped open, buttons flying off of the white shirt he always wore. 

Dean's lips went from soft, gentle, and inquisitive to demanding and persistent as he devoured the angel's mouth with his own. Castiel knew, in that moment, that whatever the decision he had made was, it was not a mistake. 

His skin felt hot and sticky, though he knew he couldn't sweat, that didn't mean he still didn't radiate heat when his pulse quickened. He could feel Dean's pulse along his own, could practically hear his heartbeat as practiced fingers traced their way over Castiel's chest. He didn't have to be experienced to recognize that Dean was, and a whole new kind of nervousness welled up inside Castiel; what if he wasn't... good? 

For one horrifying moment, Cas suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands. As if Dean sensed his uneasiness, he pulled back, stripping his shirt off over his head. He caught Cas's worried gaze with his own, and leaned down, capturing the angel's earlobe with his teeth and nibbling gently. "Don't forget, this is kinda my first time too." Dean whispered into his ear, sending another delectable chill up Castiel's spine. His nervousness waned, his hands coming up to fist in the hunters hair while Dean pressed kisses down his neck to his bare chest. 

Castiel couldn't help but compare this with his one and only other sexual experience. In the centuries he had existed, he had never really thought much about sex. He knew that humans would pay for it, lie for it, sometimes even kill for it, and being with April was more about satisfying his curiosity. He didn't think that she had truly satisfied his need to understand 'why' humans were so obsessed with the act with their encounter, though it had been satisfying enough. 

After fifteen minutes of Dean's lips and hands and tongue on his body, Castiel was beginning to understand better. 

It wasn't sex that drove people to murder, it wasn't the act of mashing bodies together, it was this. This desperate, gasping passion that threatened to burn Castiel to the ground. It was tingling skin and hesitant touches, gripping fingers and nails biting into flesh. It was teeth and tongues and sweet panting breaths. He felt Dean's hands at his belt and he groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as the stiff fabric was moved over his thighs and calves, his shoes removed, all tossed to a pile on the floor. He shrugged out of his jacket ripping his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it into their clothing puddle on the floor. 

Suddenly very naked in front of his hunter, he felt nervousness bubble inside him again. In his time in this vessel he had come to know it as his flesh, his body; though technically he had shared it one point. It had been many years that this flesh belonged to him, and he wanted it to please Dean... he wanted to please Dean. 

Dean's eyes widened as Castiel's hardness burst forth from his boxers, long and thick and hard as a rock. His hands shook as he nervously took Castiel in his hands, stroking him up and down experimentally. Castiel groaned and closed his eyes, his body responding before his mind could process what was happening. Dean had been on the receiving end of this enough times to know what to do, though putting it into practice was an entirely different thing. He bent down, trailing his tongue up the underside of Castiel's cock empirically, watching as the angel shuddered deliciously at his touch. 

Any and all nervousness Cas was feeling disappeared the moment the hunter's hands were on him, stilling all thought and reason within him. All he could think, feel and breathe was Dean, every inch of him inflamed and consumed by Dean's roaming hands and wandering tongue.


	10. Chapter 10: Dean

Dean had never felt himself border on animistic since he had The Mark. Something primal, primitive, and all consuming had taken over his body. As if the moment Castiel touched him, every fear faded and disappeared; and all that was left was the two of them, knee deep in each others arousal. Dean's hands were everywhere all at once, his fingers deftly exploring the body he had fantasized about in his drunkest most wanton moments. 

Without thinking Dean threw himself at his angel with abandon, glorying in every moan and gasp of breath that escaped him while the hunters mouth worked him over. His tongue swirling, around Cas's stiff cock, his lips closing around him while Dean took him as fully into his throat as he could. Cas squirmed, gasped, moaned, and dug his fingers into the comforter beside him. He had never felt such overwhelming lust before in his life, and without doubt he knew if Dean continued as he was this wasn't going to last nearly as long as he wanted it to.

With a disgruntled moan, Dean found himself flat on his back, Castiel's hands suddenly pulling off his shoes, his socks... then they were at his belt, fingers fumbling as he nervously tried to remove the offending fabric. Dean shifted his hips upward, and with a woosh his pants and boxers joined the pile on the floor, the only scrap of clothing left between them was Castiel's tie, still loosely hanging around the angel's neck. 

Dean grinned wickedly, grabbing the slip of silk and using it to pull Castiel's lips to his own again. They fell together, flesh to flesh, finally, at last. Their bodies pressed against each other, Castiel's rock hard erection pressed against the inside of Dean's thigh while their mouths clashed, their tongues dancing, sliding against each other as their bodies rocked together. He felt the tie inch its way down his body as Castiel pressed kisses across him, adding to the sensation even more, making goose bumps rose all over Dean's chiseled chest. Dean clutched wildly at Cas, as Cas pressed kisses across his neck, his collar bone, his chest; trailing a glorious thread of kisses down his stomach before settling between his thighs. 

Dean groaned as Castiel's tongue rolled over him the first time, his cock straining more painfully than it had since probably high school. He pressed his hips upward gently, his hands automatically lacing their way through Castiel's soft curling locks, as the angel wrapped his mouth around Dean fully. He cursed, his hips bucking upward of their own volition. Castiel found a comfortable rhythm and Dean realized let his eyes roll back as sensation threatened to overwhelm him. He was nearly delirious with pleasure and arousal as he felt Castiel press his legs back, his tongue traveling its way down his shaft, the flat of it pressed against Dean's balls. Slowly, one after the other, Cas sucked them into his mouth, letting his tongue roll over them. Dean heard himself cry out, felt his hips leave the bed as Castiel continued his assault. 

Dean had never been so ready to burst in his entire life, puberty included. He felt like a boy again, unable to control himself under Castiel's inquisitive touch. He groaned, realizing he couldn't take it any longer and he wanted this to last, he wanted to feel every single moment of it and draw it out as long as possible. He tugged Castiel's hair, and Cas looked up at him with eyes filled with lust; Dean almost lost it right there. 

He pulled the angel to him, meeting his lips again as Dean pressed him back on the mattress, pressing himself between the angel's legs as he did so. Dean reached between them, his hand stroking Castiel's fully erect cock in long slow motions. He watched as Cas bit his lip, his head rolling back against the pillows. 

Dean sat up suddenly, leaning over the side fo the bed and digging into his duffel bag. Castiel cried out at the sudden lack of contact, for a half a heartbeat terrified Dean had changed his mind. Instead, a moment later, the hunter reemerged, clutching a small plastic bottle in his hands. Cas stared at him quizzically as Dean slathered his fingers in the thick, viscous material. "Trust me." He told the angel, and Cas nodded his consent. 

He did trust him, beyond any and everything else in the world, Castiel trusted Dean. 

A moment later, when the hunter re-positioned himself above Cas, and his lips met his again in soft, mellow kiss, Cas knew his trust was not misplaced. Dean parted his lips beneath Castiel's kiss, letting out a quiet groan as their tongues slid together once again. 

His hand traveled down beneath them again, first wrapping around Castiel's thick cock once more, as he stroked it up and down. When Castiel was practically panting with lust, Dean's hands moved lower, his fingers teasing Cas's puckered virgin hole. He slipped the first finger in, moving it slowly, waiting for Cas to adjust to the new sensation. Dean had to grit his teeth in concentration; Castiel was so tight, and he had never been hornier in his entire life. Still, Dean went slow, massaging, twisting and gently working Castiel until the angel could only manage to mumble incoherently. his head tossing back and forth on the pillows. 

Finally Cas had enough, his body wound so tight he felt like a coiled spring ready to burst. Dean had worked three fingers into him, and all he knew was he needed more. He wanted to be filled completely; and he knew Dean was the only one who could satisfy that need. 

"Please, Dean..." Castiel managed to get out, his voice quivering with lusty need. 

Dean didn't need any more encouragement; he slathered himself with lube, pressing himself against Castiel's waiting entrence as their lips met again. Dean kissed him gently, moving slowly, pressing just the tip of himself into Cas. He felt Cas's gasp across his lips and he stilled his motion, the familiar tingling sensation of Cas's healing mojo running across the tip of his cock. 

"I'm pretty sure that's cheating." Dean grinned into his angels mouth, rocking his hips back and then forward again as Castiel sucked in another sharp breath. 

Castiel wrapped his legs around the hunter, forcing him further into himself in the process, his hips angling to a much more comfortable position. Dean groaned; all thoughts of jokes lost as he buried himself in Castiel completely. 

Castiel was on fire; he felt like he could barely breathe for the sensations coursing through him. Never in his life had he felt so full, so complete, so in love and so aroused all in one moment. 

As Dean's thrusts became more sure, more consistent, Castiel learned to dance the line between pleasure and pain. When the hunters fingers came down and wrapped around his painfully stiff cock, Cas knew it was all over. He heard himself cry out Dean's name, their bodies rocking together, the glorious friction against his cock threatening to send him over the edge right there. 

But Dean was methodical, his strokes bringing Castiel right to the edge but not letting him fall over it. No, Dean was determined that when they jumped over that cliff, they'd take the ride together. He had never felt anything so hot and wet and tight before in his life, and each thrust brought him closer and closer to that ecstasy. 

His hand worked faster as his hips became more frantic in their motions, his orgasm coming closer and closer. 

It was Castiel who felt it first, the coil of muscles, the hot, electric current of pleasure that course through him. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, all he could manage was to cry Dean's name over and over again, the sound of it driving the hunger mad with lust. Dean felt his love's orgasm hit him just moments before his own came crashing down on him, making white lights dance in his eyes as he spilled his seed into his love. 

Dean slowed his hips, his face pressed against Cas's neck as his breathing subsided. He stayed that way, still, just listening to the sound of the angels breaths on his neck, the feel of his frantic pulse against his forehead. 

Finally, when their heartbeats had returned to normal and Dean could see straight again, he rolled off the angel, pulling Cas into his arms without thinking about it. He toyed with the scrap of material at Cas's neck, pulling at it with deft fingers. 

Cas brought his hand up, lacing his fingers through Dean's and bringing them to his lips for a kiss. 

Dean wasn't sure what was going to happen next; all he knew for sure was that everything had changed.


	11. Chapter 11: Sam

Sam relaxed onto his bed, grabbing his laptop out of his bag, deciding to search whatever lore they had on the boogity boogity that stole lungs and livers. He waited for the computer to come to life, sincerely wondering if his mothers mischievous plan had actually worked on his stubborn brother and the angel he loved. The screen booted up, and Sam let out a scream, dropping the computer to the floor. It wasn't even a holler or a yell, but rather a high pitched girlish scream that made his throat hurt... Mary jumped, her hand clutching her heart as she stared at her younger son in utter shock. 

"S-sorry, mom." Sam grabbed the laptop off the floor, trying to change the background from the horrific murderous clown picture Dean must have changed it to earlier. "Fucking, Dean..." he grumbled. 

His mother stared at him with wide eyes. "Ahh... care to explain?" She asked him, eyebrows raised. 

"I have a--uh-- a clown... thing." He told her, his hands shaking nervously as he clicked and clicked, finally setting it back to its original picture of a sunset. 

Mary was still staring at him, and he huffed out an awkward laugh. "A clown thing?" She questioned. 

"Yeah... I uh--I hate them. I really hate clowns, it's... good god they're awful." Sam said. He saw his mothers lips quirk a half an inch. "It's not funny!"

Unable to control herself, Mary burst into laughter, her arms clutching at her waist. "So... so let me get this straight... you're a hunter, you've literally fought just about every type of monster, god, angel, demon, what have you possible... and yet you're afraid of clowns?"

Sam ducked his head, a furious blush creeping into his cheeks. "Are-- are you making fun of me?"

Mary clutched her hand over her stomach, on still clasped over he mouth as she stared at her youngest, humor flashing across her features. "No, no... not at all honey. I am sure it's very real for you..." She shook her head, trying to avoid Sam's disgruntled gaze, bursting forth with giggles again. "I swear, I'm not making fun of you at all." 

Sam had a very distinct feeling he finally understood where Dean got his sarcastic sense of humor from.

Mary tried to breathe, and finally, reluctantly, Sam joined in her laughter. "Trust me," he told her. "I get that it's irrational." 

She came over and ruffled his hair. "Well that's good, son. Otherwise I might have been worried."

Sam smiled at his mother, glad that he finally felt genuinely at ease in her presence... even if it was because she laughed at him mercilessly. She felt like family, the family he had known his whole life. Soft on the inside, but sarcastic and teasing on the outside. Between Bobby and Dean, Sam was used to being the butt of every joke. He could see so much of Dean in her, the way she teased him, the way she cared, the way she smiled... he had no idea so much of her was reflected in his older brother. 

"So," she started, settling herself down on her own bed. "Do you think they're talking?" 

Sam looked at her. "Knowing Dean, they're either fighting or ah... well... not fighting." He trailed off awkwardly. He cleared his throat, "you did a good thing, back there." He told her, and he meant it. He had watched Dean pine for the angel for long enough, lord knew. 

She smiled. "Well, what are mothers for if not forcing their children into situations they don't want to be forced into if it's in their best interest?" 

He set the laptop aside, rolling onto his side to look at Mary while he spoke. Sam wasn't sure he would ever get used to the sight of her face, alive, healthy, and real. "How did you know? I mean honestly I have been around Dean my whole life and it took me years to pick up on him and Cas. Dean tries so hard to hide it." 

"I've been around long enough to know what it looks like when two people are in love, Sammy." She told him. "It's hard enough for people to find that in this world, and add hunting on top of everything else... it's damn near impossible. So what if Castiel is a guy? Dean clearly loves him, he clearly loves Dean. There are so few precious moments we get to be in love in this world, it seems to me Dean has wasted a lot of time." 

Sam cleared his throat. "Actually, mom... Cas is an angel, so he doesn't actually have a gender. Right now, he's using his human vessel." 

Mary's eyes grew wide. "You mean... there's a human in there?" 

Sam sighed, "well, no... not anymore. Cas sort of got exploded by Lucifer and after that... well the human that was inside him is in heaven now. We have a friend looking after his kid... The guy that Cas inhabited wanted it, he uh--he prayed for it, even. Or that's what Cas has told me, and I believe him." Sam felt oddly defensive of the angel; the story of Jimmy Novak wasn't exactly his most shining moment. Briefly, he wondered if Dean had told her about the time Cas decided he was God. He decided that one was a story for another time, just in case. 

Mary looked pensive for a moment, as if she was still letting herself process this new information. He could practically see the gears turning in her head. 

"You should know, Cas was very different before he came to Earth the first time. He was a warrior, but falling from heaven; or more accurately, falling in love with Dean... well it made him a better man." Sam told her.

She stayed silent for a moment longer. "That must be hard on him," she said. "On Castiel, I mean... knowing that to be here, someone lost their life." 

Sam decided it definitely wasn't the time to tell her about the whole God thing. 

Mary turned on him with a look that Sam was now learning was a very dangerous thing from her. A look that told him that she was about to get right to the point again. 

"Sam, tell me the truth... what was your father like?" 

Sam closed his eyes, it was the only other subject she could have picked that would make the muscles constrict around his neck and a lump rise in his throat. In that same heartbeat, an quiet anger flared up inside him. He had been expecting the question ever since he handed her the journal, knowing eventually she would want to know everything. 

Mary Winchester was nothing if not thorough in her investigation.


	12. Chapter 12: Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any John Winchester fans out there, I kinda hate on that character a bit. He's not my favorite.

Mary watched as Sam rubbed at the back of his neck furiously; his face contorting with emotion. She saw so many things there, pain, anger, love, fear, and then more anger. She saw him struggle, trying to find the words, and silence fell between them for a while. She studied his quiet contemplation. 

"I'm no fool, Sam. I'm a great hunter because my intuition is rarely ever wrong. I follow my gut." She said, not realizing how much she sounded like Dean sometimes. "Right now my gut is telling that maybe things weren't great between you and your father."

"I loved him, I want you to know that... and he loved me and Dean too." Sam sighed, and Mary could see this was the last conversation he wanted t be having.

"If you really don't want to talk to me about it, Sammy, I understand." She started, but as she said the words his features softened. 

"No, it's fine... probably better if you hear it from me than from Dean." Sam said, closing the laptop and setting it aside. 

Mary wrinkled her brow, wondering what he could have meant by that, but letting him continue without interjecting. 

She had expected that things were bad between her late husbands and her sons, but the story that followed made her heart wrench. She couldn't help the tears that fell, or the anger that bubbled up inside her. Sam tried to defend him, constantly returning to the fact that 'John had tried, he did the best he could...' but there was something about it that felt forced. Like he had repeated that mantra in his own mind a thousand times. It hurt Mary, knowing the love of her life had failed her. Maybe he had tried, maybe he felt like he did the best he could... but he should have never left her boys alone like that. 

"I--I'm sorry, Sam. I wish I had-- I wish I had been there, for you, and Dean. To keep your idiot father in line." She didn't know what else to say. In her heart, she wondered if there wasn't more Sam wasn't telling her. Her heart ached, the lump in her throat making it hard to swallow. 

Sam shook his head. "Mom, you don't have to be sorry. Dad was a good man, and a good hunter... he was just kind of a terrible father. But Dean and I, we turned out okay... we just learned how to rely on each other instead." 

Mary nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. She sniffed, deciding perhaps story time was over, at least for now. She wished it was harder for her to believe it, but it didn't entirely surprise her, that John had let the boys down in an attempt to avenge her death. "It was my fault, Sam. My fault that demon came for you, my fault your father tried to kill him, my fault... Jessica... all of it was because of a deal I made." 

Sam looked at his mother, suddenly realizing where he and his brother got their need to blame themselves for virtually everything. He got up, sitting down on her bed and putting his hand gently on her shoulder. "Mom, no... remember what Dean said? We were dragged into this because of a war we should have never been involved with in the first place. They forced your hand... there was no way you could have known Azazel was going to come for me... but you being here, now... it's already healed so much for me and Dean." Sam smiled genuinely at her skeptical look, giving her shoulder a playful squeeze. "Trust me, a few weeks ago, Dean would not be in that room with Castiel." 

Mary quirked her brow at him, having a feeling that John had something to do with that too. Now was not the time to ask, nor the person. Her husband had always been a backwards fool when it came to some things, and Mary was well aware that sexuality was on that list; it wouldn't surprise her if he had failed his son in that regard as well. 

Sometimes, she wasn't sure she wished her husband alive because she missed him desperately and wanted him with her, or because she wanted to kill him herself.


	13. Part 2- Chapter 1: Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, ya'll. I had my heart broken by this last episode. I watched it three or four times, deciding if I wanted to work this story into it, or go off on my own tangent. I decided I think I ultimately can work this story into the episode. The episode felt Destiel enough (the cute coffee scene, the concern, etc) so this chapter takes place during their big confontation. Bear with me. I am going to give it a shot. Spoilers, 1203 I cannot guarantee I will be able to work every episode around this story, but I think in this case it might actually fit.

"I have to go..."

Dean felt himself withdraw, he watched it happen within himself, felt himself take a step back. He felt Mary's eyes on him, but he couldn't bear to look at her. He swallowed hard around the lump that formed in his throat. He watched her walk over to Sam, hug him, tell him he loved him. He looked up, part of him hoping she would cross the room and take him in her arms, part of him knowing he would reject her if she tried. 

Sam had been right, of course. Sam was always right about this stupid shit. He had just thought... he had been so sure, that for once good things were going to happen to them. They had spent the last few weeks in what had felt like domestic bliss to him. Waking up next to Cas every morning, seeing his mother and brother all day, family hunting trips... He knew Mary was still adjusting, but he didn't see the problems. He had been so wrapped up in himself, in Cas, in how happy and how lucky he had felt that he forgot to keep his eyes open. 

Mary was drowning, and he hadn't even noticed. 

His mind warped a thousand different ways, coming up with a thousand different reasons this was all his fault. He remembered her, telling him once when she was still dead, her ghost coming back to remind him. 'Everyone leaves you, Dean. Mommy, Daddy... even Sam." His eyes met his mothers. 

"I love both of you." She told him. He stared at her for a moment, then turned himself away; cold, aloof, disconnected. 

He watched her grab her things and head out the door, wincing at the loud clang as it shut. 

"Dean..." Sam started, but Dean couldn't hear it. 

He slammed his fists down on the table, his hands coming back up to run through his hair. "Don't!"

Dean felt so many overwhelming emotions all at once; anger, pain, hurt, abandoned and so, so guilty. He should have known, he should have been paying attention... he could have convinced her to stay if he had just known. He could have made her know how much he needed her. The door clanged, and she was gone.

She was gone, and it was his fault. 

He left the room, his mind racing in a million different directions at once. He wanted to hate her, wanted to blame her... how could she leave him, again? 

But... hadn't she given him so much? Hadn't she given him all of what she could, when she was hurting so badly herself? 

He stalked down the hall to his bedroom, slamming his door behind him. He felt like he was going to be ill... she had been hurting, and he had had his head so far up his own asshole that he didn't see it. 

His mother had left him, and he knew deep down it was because he had let her down. He flopped down on the bed, hanging his head into his hands, unable to help the tears that started for form. 

With a flutter of wings, Cas appeared in his--their? room. Dean stared up at him, tears pouring out of his eyes. Castiel looked worried, his eyes flashing over Dean's face, as if checking for injuries.

"Cas..." Dean's strangled cry, all he could manage was his name, and his angel went to him.


	14. Part 2-Chapter 2: Castiel

It was like being punched in the stomach. 

One moment Castiel had been bickering with Crowley, and the next a wave of emotion crashed over him. His heart raced, he felt ill, without thinking he muttered a quick 'I have to go' to Crowley before zapping himself to the bunker. 

When he got there, the air was so thick with Dean's pain he was sure the hunter had been hurt, mortally wounded in some way. When Cas looked at him, though, he realized it was not that type of injury. 

He almost wished it was; those injuries he could heal in a heartbeat. This, though... he could do so little to heal this hurt for Dean. When puffy green eyes met his, and all Dean could manage to choke out was his name, Cas felt himself crumble from the inside. He brought Dean into his arms, his cheek pressed against the top of his blond head. 

Castiel had a feeling Mary was going to leave, ever since their stay at that hotel a few weeks back. He didn't think it had anything to do with his and Dean's fornications, but something had changed in her that weekend. He found her pouring over that journal late at night more than once after that.

Dean didn't have to speak for Cas to know what had happened. 

Dean was never a loud crier, though Cas had seen the human with tears in his eyes more than once. He had always wanted to take him into his arms, as he did now, but had never had the courage. Now, with the hunters cheek resting against his shoulder, quiet tears falling onto his white shirt... he felt like a fool for not having done this sooner. 

"Dean... I don't want you to think this is happening because of you..." Cas started cautiously, knowing his hunter enough to be aware that his mind would take him to this ugly place. "Mary is a strong woman, but she's not perfect, Dean. She's going through a lot..." 

 

Dean sniffed, one hand coming up to angrily swipe tears away from his face. "Cas, she's been living here this whole time, and I've just been trying to play house while she was quietly dealing with all this shit--" Dean's words were cut short when Cas pressed his lips to the hunters, silencing him with a firm kiss. 

He tasted salty and smelled like Dean; leather and sweat and gunpowder and burnt oil from the impala. Cas pressed his hands to Dean's neck, and Dean parted his lips under Castiel's his eyes closing. Castiel's heart ached, and he poured all of the love into that kiss as he could. 

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead into Dean's and forcing the hunter to look into his eyes. "This wasn't your fault, Dean." He growled firmly. 

Dean sniffed, and Cas could feel his love break in his arms. "Everyone always leaves me, Cas." Dean said, his voice cracking as emotions threatened to overwhelm the angel.

He pressed kisses into Dean's hair, his forehead, down to his cheeks, before looking into his eyes once more. "I will never leave you." He promised, knowing he would promise anything to make Dean smile again, do anything to make him happy once more. They had been so full of happiness these last few weeks, seeing Dean so shattered made something break inside Castiel. "I will never leave." He repeated, capturing Dean's lips in another wet salty kiss. 

Dean gripped his hands, kissing him back... Castiel could only hope that the hunter believed him.


	15. Part 2- Chapter 3: Mary

Mary slumped against the door to her hotel room, throwing her bags to the floor. She had a constant stream of tears since leaving the bunker, guilt threatening to overwhelm her from the moment she left. The look Dean gave her... she didn't think she would ever be able to forget. Part of her had known that this would break him, that Sammy would be fine, but Dean would hate her for a while. 

What was she supposed to tell him? All her reasons felt like cliche excuses, even to her. The truth was, finding out how much John had failed her and her boys had made a damn break within her. Since that, her heart filled with dread every time she saw her very grown up sons. She could see, they were okay on their own. They knew how to take care of each other, and lord knew Castiel would keep Dean safe. Castiel could love him in this time... she hoped she had given them that, at least. 

She also knew that in her present state, she could be no help to them. Since her return, no matter how much love she had for her boys, she truly didn't fit into their lives. She didn't even truly fit into her own life yet.

Mary scoffed at herself, the cliched notion of having to go 'find herself' making her cringe. But it was true, she couldn't know herself with her boys around... she was too busy trying to be a mother to two adult men. Adult men who had faced more in their short lives than most did ever. They were grown, they were strong, they were capable... and as much as she hated herself for it, she had to take care of herself for a while. 

She knew there was no way she could take care of her sons until she knew how to do that again. Her escapades with the ghost were a good indication of that. She was off her game, and often felt so out of the loop it made her feel weak. This time she even let a ghost possess her, and if her boys hadn't arrived when they did, she would be dead. 

Mary clutched the leather bound journal to her chest, flipping through the pages of her loves life beyond her. She was so angry with him, and so desperate to see him again. She didn't know the man that her sons described to her, she didn't know if she wanted to know him... all she knew was that the day she died, she had been so happy. She had two beautiful sons, a little boy and a happy baby, and a loving husband. She dreamed that life in heaven for over three decades; and she had been happy. 

Waking up 33 years in the future with her sons grown and hunters, living in a dangerous world with an abusive father had been... a shock to the system to say the least. She wanted to forget every conversation she had with her sons about their father, but she couldn't. They ate away at her, consuming her every thought, making her doubt her own self. 

Her husband had abandoned her sons, and she hated him for it... and now she had done the same. She hated herself for it too.


	16. Part 2- Chapter 4: Sam

Sam didn't know what to say, though he wasn't surprised. He supposed he should be angry, but mostly he just felt sad... sad that his family was so fucked, sad that his mom had to go through this, sad for himself. He tried to follow Dean, after Mary walked out that door... but by the time he got down the hall he heard Cas's murmured voice, and he knew Dean was in the best care he could be. 

He headed to his room instead, propping himself up on his pillows. He let himself sink into the soft cushions, closing his eyes and letting the tears fall down his cheeks. He kept going over it in his head, wondering if maybe it was best that Mary hadn't known about John's relationship with the boys... but she had asked him so point blank, and he figured it was better than lying. 

She would have known if he had lied anyways, he had a feeling. It didn't matter, she had gone, and there was nothing Sam could do about it now. He blamed himself, he was sure Dean was blaming himself as well... even though deep down Sam knew it was really no ones fault. It was life, and Mary had been thrust back into it. 

He tried to put himself in her shoes and truly couldn't. He wasn't mad at her, he wasn't mad at anything, he just hurt all the way down to his core. 

Sam's life had been filled with nothing but death and abandonment, after 30 some odd years of it Sam had really had enough. Something shut down in him, he knew Mary was planning on leaving before she did because... of course she was. She was a good thing in their lives, and Sam knew all too well that good things don't really happen for the Winchester's, not really. 

Maybe that was Dean's problem... he still had hope. He still had faith that good things could happen to him. He was still optimistic, at times. 

Sam had learned a long time ago to duck when the shit hit the proverbial fan. Dean on the other hand... Dean stood right in its way, using his body as a human shield to protect those that he loved. And inevitably, Sam got caught up in it too, trying to protect Dean. 

It was a vicious cycle, really. But Sam had learned how to navigate it, he had learned how to compartmentalize. He had learned how to shut down the part of himself that believed that good things do happen... because good things never happened to Sam Winchester. He wanted his mother to break that trend, but he wasn't surprised when she didn't. He wasn't surprised when she ended up just being another thing to leave him and his brother. 

With a sigh of resignation, he decided to go bug Dean after all. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin, lying on his bed by himself crying like a fool. 

He waited outside the door for a moment before hearing their quiet voices. He knocked, waiting for Dean's muffled 'come in' before he reached for the doorknob.

He entered the room, noticing Cas had disappeared. Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. 

Dean looked surprisingly okay, though Sam could tell he'd been crying. He supposed the same could probably be said of him. Dean gave him a half smile. "Sent him out for food..." He said, explaining Cas's absence. 

Sam nodded, not really knowing what to say or how to say it. 

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, you were right..." he said, forcing the words out bitterly. 

Sam grumbled. "I didn't want to be." He glared at his brother, readying himself for a fight. "Look, I didn't come in here to tell you I told you so." He growled out.

Dean glowered. "I know, okay... I'm just... pissed." He said and Sam understood. He knew his brother well enough to know that when he said he was pissed he really meant at himself. "Looks like it's just you and me again, Sammy."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "And Cas," he added. Something like a smile quirked at the edges of Deans lips. 

"And Cas." He agreed. 

Sam sighed, somehow it always seemed to come back to the three of them. 

Team free will, at its finest.


	17. Part 2- Chapter 5: Dean

Dean was tired... it had been three days since Mary left, and all he felt was tired. The kind that didn't go away no matter how much he slept. He was trying to be strong for Sammy, continuing on as if nothing was wrong. He made food, did research, made jokes and poked fun at his brother.

Only at night, when Castiel pulled the exhausted hunter into his arms, did Dean finally admit that he wasn't okay. His heart ached and the words kept repeating in his head, over and over, like a mantra to make him insane. 'Everyone always leaves you, Dean.' The only solace he had was burying his face into his angels shoulder, pressing his lips to flesh and losing himself in Cas. 

He knew Sam was hurting, but he could't find the words for his little brother. Their life was a mess... as per usual. What do you say to a man who has lived the same life as you, only worse? At least Dean knew he had Cas. 

12 years after the death of Jessica, Dean knew his brother still mourned her. 

It wasn't something they talked about much, sort of an unwritten code amongst them. Then again, perhaps that was their issue all along. 

A life on the road had taught him how to shut himself down in the face of questions, emotions and all around 'chick flick moments'. It was the way he had always lived, until the angel came around. It wasn't until then that Dean truly found himself being open and honest; though at the time he couldn't figure out why. 

'You loved him, even then.' Taunted a little voice in the back of his mind, but he rolled his eyes, silencing it with inner sarcasm. 

Tired or not, his boys needed a pick me up. So that evening when Sam was headed to bed at approximately 8:30 pm on a Saturday, he decided it was time to take action. 

"C'mon Sammy, let's go hit up a bar." He told his little brother. 

Sam gave him a skeptical look. "Really, dude? Right now?"

Dean scoffed. "Right now? What do you mean right now? It's a fucking Saturday night and we are young and attractive men! Of course I mean right now. What better time than the present." 

Cas gave him a curious look, looking a little hurt.

"Cas, you're coming too." Dean said, giving him his best 'duh' look. Cas perked up, and Dean rolled his eyes... he knew the angel loved showing off his impressive alcohol intake to the local color. It always got him a little attention, and say what you will for the man; he certainly liked it when people were watching him. He did think he was God once, after all... "C'mon, Sammy. Go put on your best party dress. We're going out tonight."

Sam looked ready to argue, but Cas interjected. "It'll be fun, Sam. We can get Dean drunk and draw on his face later." 

Dean narrowed his eyes at his angel. "What? I saw it on a movie..." Cas defended while Sam snickered, already halfway up the hall. 

"Okay, no one is drawing on my face." Dean glowered. "But we are going! Sam?" Dean hollered after him. "Be ready in 15! That's an order." He added playfully. 

He threw his arm around his Angel, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and the two headed to their room to fancy themselves up for the evening.


	18. Part 2- Chapter 6: Castiel

Castiel liked bars. He had since the first time he spent time in one; there was something so very human about a bar. Since their invention they had been the best place to go for the latest gossip, people from all walks of life congregating to this one place to whisper secrets and have affairs. Bars and their patrons were endlessly interesting to Cas, and he was feeling particularly dapper in Dean's stylish suit. They were close to the same size, though it was a little long in the arms and a little snug in he shoulders. He still looked quite good, as he checked his reflection in the mirror one last time before they left. Judging by the look on Dean's face, the hunter agreed. 

...

Thirty minutes later, his pulse thumped with the beat of some pop song. The bar seemed a little more fast paced than their usual hang outs, but Dean seemed sure this was the right one. Sam came along grudgingly, but Cas could tell he was glad to be dragged out of the house. 

The place was crowded, but not overly so. There was a small dance floor that was full but not packed, and the music was light and fun. Cas found himself tapping to the beat without noticing, while Dean found them a table and Sam grabbed drinks. 

Castiel was still amazed at the easy casualness between him and Dean. Their relationship had changed, to be sure, but it changed easily and with no resistance from either of them. He automatically settled himself into a booth next to Dean, and without a thought Dean slung his arm along the back of the seat. 

Cas found himself looking at Dean, while Dean scanned the crowd. 

"What are you looking for?" Cas asked him. 

Dean grinned wickedly at his love. "Easy prey," he answered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Cas frowned, feeling his stomach drop and a tingle spread through him. It was an emotion he had learned to understand was jealousy-- he felt it the first time when Dean had kissed Anna in front of him. At the time, he didn't understand what it meant, and it took him years to fully understand it. 

Dean was still the only creature to ever inspire such an emotion inside of him, and he felt himself shrink within it. Had Dean seriously asked him to come here so he could watch as the hunter found some woman for the night? The thought made him feel slightly ill. 

Dean frowned at him, catching on immediately. "Not for me, you idiot!" Dean laughed. "For Sam... dude needs to lighten up." 

Castiel felt silly for the amount of relief that flooded through him-- of course he had meant for Sam. "Of course..." He told him, trying to hide his blushing face. 

Dean settled his arm around Cas, hauling the angel closer and pressing a kiss to his temple, taking Cas by surprise. Behind closed doors Dean had been more than affectionate; he had been downright eager to have his hands all over Castiel. But he had yet to be so forward in the world; Cas didn't think much of it, supposing it was just part of his journey in their new relationship. 

Sam arrived a few minutes later, holding three beers. "Lady at the bar should be by with shots any minute." He told them, tossing out the frothy beverages.


	19. Part 2- Chapter 7: Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so apparently this is a crossover fic now. I ahh... I didn't really plan that? I've wanted to do a crossover fic for a while but I hadn't intended to make this into one. I had the idea for it today and the more I played with it the more I liked it. I wanted to introduce someone to Sam, and I didn't love any of the pairing options for him that are canon with the show. I suppose this is the point where my fic is going to completely deviate from the source material. Partly because I am tired of writing angst, and I wanted to add a little spice to this to even out the angsty parts. So I am twisting a BtVS character into this story, and if you love it keep reading and if you hate it... well I am really glad you enjoyed it up to this point.

Sam was grumpy. He didn't particularly want to be there in the first place, but he knew Dean was just trying to make him feel better. Cas's perhaps overeager stare had been the deciding factor though. 

He stood at the bar and flagged down the bartender, a busty blonde that would have had his brother frothing at the mouth a few years ago. Sam smiled politely at her. "Three beers and 12 shots, for the booth in the corner." Sam said, gesturing to where Dean sat, his arm draped casually around Cas. 

It made him smile slightly, watching Dean try to navigate this new world. Dean had never exactly been the relationship type; Lisa having been the closest thing Dean had ever had. That had ended the way everything ended for the Winchesters, messy with heartbreak and pain. 

Seeing him with Cas made Sam long for something he hadn't had in years... companionship. 

The server raised her eyebrows at him. "Long night?" She asked with a grin, popping the bottles off of three beers and sliding them towards Sam. 

Sam nodded his head in agreement, "long life." He amended grabbing the bottles and making his way back to the table. 

He settled himself at the table, letting them know more alcohol was coming. If he was going to have to sit in this too loud bar, with his brother and his new gay boytoy (can you be gay with an angel? God the whole interspecies thing made Sam's head hurt), while he himself was feeling so pitifully alone-- he was going to be hammered for it. 

He scanned across the bar, tuning out whatever Dean and Cas were bickering about, the lyrics to some dance song drowning out nearly everything. He was starting to truly believe he was getting too old for this shit, when his attention was caught by a woman in the center of the dance floor. 

Sam wasn't typically one to stare, but she was mesmerizing, her hips matching the quick pace of the beat while sweat glistened on her skin. She looked about his age, certainly had a few more years on the punk kid on the dance floor that tried to put his hands on her. She brushed him aside with a coy smile, and he was easily distracted by someone much younger and much drunker than his current target. 

"Sam!" Dean yelled, snapping Sam's attention back to them.

"Huh?" He said, blinking several times. 

"Will you please tell Cas?" Dean said, grumbling. 

Cas looked frustrated, his eyes narrowed at his hunter. "I don't see what the issue is."

"Tell him what?" Sam asked, utterly baffled... maybe he should have been listening. His attention was caught by the brunette on the floor again... she moved like she was dancing but her body felt lethal. Sam couldn't take his eyes off her, but he made sure to listen to Dean this time. 

"That I don't dance?" Dean glowered. 

Sam drew his attention away from the woman on the floor, a wicked grin taking over his features. "Well, there's a first time for everything." He told his brother. Part of him wanted to make Dean as miserable as he felt, but he also wanted to get nearer to that woman. Something about her made Sam curious, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

Cas grinned, knowing that if Sam was on his side it would be much easier to convince Dean. 

Dean, however, looked like he was sucking on a lemon. Sam found himself laughing hysterically when the next song that came on was "Shake it Off" by Taylor Swift. The corners of Dean's mouth twitched and Sam watched him fight against it. "C'mon Dean, they're playing your song!" 

Dean groaned as Cas tugged his hand, rolling his eyes as the angel dragged him out onto the dance floor. His bow legs had always made Dean a bit of an awkward dancer, and he knew it. Watching him let loose and laugh with Cas brought an instant smile to Sam's face. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

His eyes scanned the dance floor for the red-lipped brunette he had seen earlier, but she was nowhere to be found. He glanced around the bar, seeing her there, her curly hair bouncing as she knocked back a shot. 

Sam looked up, watching Dean and Cas for a moment before deciding to make his way to the girl instead. Their pile of shots had been downed by Cas in a matter of moments, and he needed a refill anyways. 

He sidled up next to her, sitting down, feeling suddenly nervous and awkward in her presence. She radiated confidence in a way he wasn't sure he had ever seen. He cleared his throat and her eyes flicked over him, appraising. She paused for a moment and then smiled, a coy, seductive sort of smile. Sam felt himself falter. 

"Hi, I'm Sam..." he started, holding out his hand and doing his best to give her a devilish smile. 

Her eyes met his and he felt electricity shoot through him. "I'm Faith."


	20. Part 2- Chapter 8: Dean

Dean was caught a little off guard when the next song after Taylor was a slow one. He didn't recognize the words but the pace was mellow, people pairing off all over the floor. He saw Cas's face fall slightly as they stood awkwardly, several feet apart. 

He hated dancing, but he hated that look on Cas's face far more. Internally groaning, he stepped into the angel's space. "Dance with me?" he said, quirking his brow. 

"Dean... I-- I don't know how to dance like this." Cas shifted, and Dean smiled. 

"Pfft," he scoffed. "This is the easiest kind of dancing." Dean told the angel, grabbing his hands and placing one around his neck while keeping the other firm in his right hand, his left arm snaking behind the angel's back. He felt Cas take in a quick breath, their nearness startling him. 

Dean knew several people were looking at them, and he told himself to ignore it. Life hadn't given him a whole lot of good things, but he had a literal gardian angel in his arms that loved him-- he wasn't about to let a few strangers opinions change his mind on this one. 

They swayed to the music for several moments, Cas relaxing into Dean's embrace, Dean closing his eyes as they rested their forheads together. He inhaled deeply, drinking in Castiel's scent. 

"This is nice." Cas whispered gently, shifting so his head was resting softly on Dean's shoulder. 

He pulled the angel closer, so that his cheek rested on his head. "It really is." 

...

Dean and Cas made their way back to their booth as some rap song started to blare; something neither of them felt like dancing to at the moment. He searched the crowd for his brother, seeing him at a bar next to a pretty little thing in too tight pants. From the looks of things, their conversation was going well. She smiled at him welcomingly enough, anyways. Dean puffed his chest out in brotherly pride. 

He could feel his energy waning, and he stifled a yawn. 

"You look tired, Dean." Came Castiel's concerned voice in his ear. 

He watched his brother for a moment, grumbling at his choices. Cas wasn't wrong, Dean was tired... but he didn't want to tear his brother away from the prospect of possibly getting laid. He wasn't cruel, after all. He sat for a moment, pondering his options, deciding finally that there was a way around both dilemmas.

He grabbed Cas's hand, dragging him across the bar to his brother. 

Sam was smiling, and Dean was pleased to see it was his genuine smile. He tapped the taller man on the shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but Cas and I are going to turn in." He told his brother. 

Sam gave him his best 'dude-are-you-seriously-interrupting-me-right-now' look and Dean gave the brunette a winning grin, pulling his keys from his pocket. He tossed them to his younger brother, his face suddenly threatening. "Cas is gonna ah... drive me home. Sam, you scratch my baby..." 

Sam grabbed the keys out of the air, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Not a mark, got it." He said with a grin, turning his attention back to the voluptuous woman. Dean had to admit his brother had taste, she was definitely the most attractive woman at the bar. There was something special about her too, though Dean couldn't put his finger on it. 

They walked out of the bar together, heading around the corner to a more secluded place. Something told Dean people might notice if they disappeared from the middle of a crowded bar. 

He turned to Cas, the angel putting a hand on his shoulder, mimicking the first time they had touched. Dean grinned at the memory, looking his angel in the eyes. With a flutter of wings, they arrived in the bunker. 

Dean felt the familiar wave of nausea, but it passed soon enough. He swallowed back bile, reminding himself that Sam owed him for that one. Cas had begun loosening his tie, and Dean came up behind him, wrapping his arms around the angel, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

"I thought you said you were tired..." Castiel said, unable to help the seductive smile that quirked at his lips. 

"Not too tired..." Dean murmured into his neck, pressing kisses down to his shoulders, his hands winding around to undo the rest of the buttons on Castiel's shirt. Cas closed his eyes, leaning back against Dean as his hands pulled the fabric from the angel's body. 

Cas turned in the hunters embrace, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss as they stumbled back towards the bed.


	21. Part 2- Chapter 9: Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been asked a few times, so I am doing my best to answer here. Most common question is 'why faith'? And the honest answer is, I just think she's a good match for Sam. She's got so much power and raw sexuality, she's spontaneous to his wet blanket, she's frivolous, she's fun, and she's beautiful. She could hunt with him, and I see her as the yin to his yang. I toyed with the idea of a character I created but the longer I thought about it the more I wanted to use Faith. She's such a great character and I never felt the BtVS verse used her to her full potential. She and Sam are a lot alike, what with the daddy issues and such. I'll be going into Faith's background a little more intently than I did with the boys because I feel like a lot of my readers aren't exactly BtVS fans, and that's great. It means if I fuck this character up no one will notice... anyways! I am going to have fun playing with Faith because she is honestly just the best, and I am thankful to my readers that have stayed with me through this weird fic. For those of you that have stuck it out, I have some really fun smut coming up for you :P

Faith had been tracking this vamp nest since Huston, and she was getting irritated with it when she decided to stop by a local club and blow off some steam. Little did she know what a treat that would be, when a tall drink of water made his way over to her. She sized him up, taking note of his toned muscles and soft brown eyes. He was good looking, to say the least. 

She put on her most winning smile, adjusting herself to give him a better view. She watched him look away nervously and grinned internally. It was almost too easy. 

"So, Sam... tell me all about you." She said, her eyes flashing at him seductively. 

Faith had always known what she was doing when it came to men. From the moment she had gotten curves, she noticed men noticing her. It was hard not to; most of them certainly weren't exactly shy about it. 

Getting superpowers at 18 had only boosted her confidence, and now at nearly 36 years old she had honed her skills. 

Sam smiled, shifting his gaze from her eyes to her lips for a half a moment. "Well, what do you want to know?" 

"What do you do for a living?" She asked, leaning in to give him a better view of her assets. 

She watched him stammer, coming up with an answer she was fairly sure was a lie. "I uh, travel... I'm a traveling salesman." He landed on, smiling at her. He was cute and sexy all at once, and Faith had a feeling she was going to have fun with this one. 

She was laughing at some joke he said when two other men approached them. She had seen them together earlier; they made quite the spectacle on the dance floor in this one horse town. People had given them a wide birth, as if they might catch the gay. Faith rolled her eyes internally at the thought, grinning widely at the couple as the blond one clasped his hand down on Sam's shoulder. 

She raised her eyebrows as one man tossed a set of keys to the other, and the couple retreated. "So, you ah... share a vehicle? Strange for a traveling salesman..." 

She watched as Sam faltered, looking down at the keys awkwardly. "That was my brother..." he started, clearly ready to come up with an excuse. 

"Listen," she told him. "you're traveling, I'm traveling... it's not like we don't both know what we are looking to get from this. How about we cut the small talk and just hit the dance floor?" She asked. Sam looked relieved, the dimples in his cheeks making him even more attractive, if possible as she dragged him onto the dance floor. 

The beat to the song wasn't fast, and it wasn't slow. She closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the rhythm. Sam moved well, but kept his distance. Faith grinned wickedly when she felt his hesitation, and she closed the distance between them. Sam froze, she felt his breath hitch as she reached up, bringing his hands down on her body as she moved to the music. He shivered, shifting so he could feel her as she moved against him. 

His hands felt good, rough and calloused, certainly not the hands of a salesman... not that it mattered.


	22. Part 2- Chapter 10: Castiel

Castiel pressed kisses into Dean's neck as the hunter towered over him, their clothes in piles on the floor. Cas had seen Dean naked in the flesh often lately, but the sight always managed to take his breath away. Lean muscles and pale, soft skin, the tattoo high upon his peck, the lines of his hips and the curve of his ass... Cas couldn't help his roaming hands when the hunter was around. Dean paused suddenly, giving Cas a playful look, making him frown in confusion. 

"So tell me, Cas..." Dean started, propping himself up on his elbow next to the angel. "Were you really jealous back at the bar?" He teased.

Cas felt the familiar tingle spread across his flesh and he narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the brief moment he thought Dean was looking for a woman to love for the night. "Yes..." He grumbled, glaring up at his hunter. "Why are you bringing this up now?" 

Dean smirked, trailing a hand over Cas's naked chest. "I dunno, Cas..." he teased, his hand skimming the flat of Cas's stomach, making him take in a sharp breath. "It was kinda hot... seeing you get all worried." 

Castiel knew he was teasing, but something tugged at him. Dean was... he was practically baiting the angel. Cas growled a little in frustration as Dean's tongue trailed down his neck. He gasped, his hands tangling in Dean's hair, his entire being electrified by the hunters touch. The thought of Dean with another person, anyone other than himself, made the angel swell with a possessiveness he had never known.

Dean's light touches and nibbles were driving Cas mad, and even more maddening was that the hunter seemed keenly aware of what he was doing. They'd been with each other every night since the first, but Cas wasn't sure he was ever going to grow used to their new arrangement. It wasn't long ago, he was sure that Dean would never let him in... and tonight they had danced together in a room full of people. Cas's heart swelled as Dean's teasing tongue darted out to taste the spot just below. 

He growled, finally having enough; arousal had him coiled like a spring and Dean's slow sensuous touches were making him go out of his mind with lust. In one fluid motion, he brought Dean onto his back and towered above him, and Dean flashed him a wicked grin. 

Cas narrowed his eyes, realizing that was Dean's intention all along. His devilish tongue and teasing fingers, bringing up Cas's jealousy at the bar; all of it had been calculated to make Cas... what? Take control?

Judging by the desire that flashed through the hunter's eyes, Cas was right on the last one. He ran a hand up Dean's body, feeling every curve of him; his thigh, his belly, across one puckered nipple, his collarbone, his neck, finally fisting in his hair. 

"Is this what you wanted, Dean?" Cas growled, low in his throat. 

Dean swallowed hard, biting his lip subconsciously; it was confirmation enough for Cas. He pulled the hunter's head back by his hair, exposing his sensitive neck. Dean's smile vanished as Cas's mouth descended on him, biting and kissing and licking and sucking. The hunter groaned, low and throaty, and Cas was pleased to see he had wiped that satisfied smirk from his love's face. Dean's hands traveled their way up Cas's sides, digging into his back as their lips met. 

Cas felt frantic with it, crashing their lips together in a passionate battle for domination, tongues tasting, teeth nibbling lips until they were red and bruised and swollen from each others desperate kiss. Dean's fingers dug painfully into Cas's back and the angel's fist tightened in the hunters hair. 

Cas broke the kiss, still holding Dean firmly in his grasp. "Is this what you like?" Cas demanded in Dean's ear, maneuvering himself so he could lace his fingers through Dean's pinning him to the bed. 

"Are you just determined to make me insane for you, Dean?" His voice commanded attention, and Cas could easily see the hunter was loving it. He pressed kisses down Dean's neck, watching as his eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned and gasped against the pillows. Dean's fingers tightened around Cas's as the angel's mouth tortured him making the hunter wriggled beneath him deliciously. 

"Answer me, Dean." Cas whispered against his cheek, and Dean practically whined in response. 

"Yes... yes this is what I wanted the whole time." Dean answered, and Cas could tell by the hungry look on the hunters face that yes, this is what he wanted.

Cas smiled against the hunters lips, teasing him, darting his tongue out to trace along them gently before capturing them in a slow deliberate kiss. His hands released Dean's, coming down to trail along Dean's sides as Cas made his way down the hunters body with his mouth. 

He dipped his head low, flicking his tongue out to taste Dean's head, watching as the hunter's head jerked up from the pillows to watch. As Cas's tongue danced along his throbbing cock, Dean couldn't seem to force himself to sit still. His head thrashed against the pillows, his fingers tangling in brunet hair before fisting in the sheets, his hips bucking up off the bed uncontrolled. 

Cas found that two could easily play at the teasing game as his mouth worked over his love, watching him moan and writhe beneath his ministrations made Cas swell with a strange sort of pride. Dean gasped audibly when Castiel took him fully into his mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head as he let out a string of curses. 

Cas toyed with him with his mouth for a while, alternating movements and pressure, always enjoying figuring out which of Dean's buttons he could push. Dean didn't seem to mind the torture so much, though Cas had no intention of making the hunter cum. 

At least not yet anyways.


	23. Part 2- Chapter 11: Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Romantic Dom!Cas and bottom!Dean this chapter, smut smut nothing but smut and a tiny bit of fluff)

Dean could not have dreamed that his plan would work so well. Seeing this side of Cas, this all but primal animal doing things to his body that he had never experienced before... it was taking Dean to a level of arousal he had never imagined. Cas's hands gripped his thighs tight, nails digging into his flesh as the angel assaulted his body with his mouth. Dean's hands dug into the comforter, arching his hips in desperate need for release, but Cas was unrelenting. 

Dean couldn't take it anymore, his body was electrified by sensation as Cas's hands and tongue searched out every inch of him, teasing, touching, tasting. His teeth grazed one nipple, then the other, lightly, testing. 

Dean fisted his hand in the angels hair, tugging him up towards his face, and captured his lips in a kiss. It had been such a short few weeks they had first kissed. Sometimes it amazed Dean that they slipped so easily into a steady routine. Cas was the part of his life he thought he was missing, and as painful as it was to have Mary gone, he knew he would survive. His angel was here, and if there was one thing Dean was sure of in this world it was that as long as he lived, Castiel would be by his side. 

He kissed his angel passionately, their tongues sliding against each other in the same moment Castiel traced his hands up Dean's arms, lacing his fingers through the hunters and pinning Dean to the bed. Dean arched beneath him, unfamiliar with this primal urgent lust that stole over him. He had been with plenty of women, and they had all scratched an itch... but none of them electrified every surface of his body. Not to mention there was something entirely erotic about knowing that if Cas wanted to, he could just take him, here and now... and Dean wouldn't be able to stop him. As the angel towered above him, their fingers laced, pressing him into the mattress, almost to the point of pain. Dean groaned as something deep within him responded to this new sense of helplessness as Cas's mouth battled his for dominance and he realized it was a battle he was very much losing. The realization made him strain painfully, feeling Cas's erection slide against his own as their tongues danced. 

Cas finally relented, breaking the kiss, leaving Dean gasping. Castiel pressed kisses down his cheeks, sucking one earlobe into his mouth and grazing his teeth against it. 

"I want you to know something, Dean." Came Cas's voice, low and vaguely threatening in Dean's ear. He felt an unfamiliar shiver crawl up his spine and he bit his lip in anticipation and Cas's fingers dug into the back of his hand painfully. He gasped, grinding his hips up unconsciously. 

"Wh--What?" Dean answered, unable to help the gasp that escaped him as Cas ground his hips against the hunters, slowly and deliberately. Dean shivered, unsure what had taken over his angel but certainly not about to complain about it. He had played these games before, though in a reverse role... never thought he would find himself grinding beneath a man who could very easily make him his little bitch... but he was definitely enjoying his predicament. 

"You're mine, Dean Winchester." Cas told him, his voice coming out in a gravely possessive growl. 

"And this is mine." He whispered against Dean's neck, scraping his teeth along the sensitive flesh beneath his ear. 

He pressed several kisses down until he reached Dean's collar bone. "And this is mine." His voice grew a little louder as his teeth gently nibbled a sensitive spot there. Dean groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as his eyes fluttered shut. "Say it, Dean." Cas urged, as his tongue darted out and tasted a nipple. 

"I'm yours, Cas, I'm yours." Dean gasped out, his breath hitching as he felt Cas's teeth graze him again. 

"And you were always mine, weren't you, Dean?" Cas ground out as he bit down on Dean's hip, hard enough to leave a mark, and Dean groaned in surprise. He thrust upward wildly, but Cas's fingers still held him captive. 

"Yes, Cas." He gasped, the tips of his fingers starting to tingle with lack of circulation as Cas continued to tease him. Something in the back of his brain told him to file 'tease Cas more often' under things to do. He was becoming frantic, Cas's teasing leaving him desperate for contact and release. "Yes I was always yours, always yours." He moaned, knowing in that moment he would say or do anything to have him now, and also that it was true, even if he could have never admitted it then. He had always belonged to the angel, ever since his hand burned into the hunters flesh when he ripped him from hell. 

As if Cas could sense Dean's thoughts, Cas suddenly released his hands, and in a maneuver so fast it surprised him, Dean found himself flat on his stomach with Cas's strong arms wrapped around him. His fingers pressed into the exact place they had left their mark all those years ago, as his hard cock pressed into Deans cheeks, sliding up and down between them. 

"Do you remember when I held you like this, Dean?" Castiel whispered, low in his ear, as he rocked his hips gently against the hunters. Dean groaned, closing his eyes.

He did remember, for years to come he would remember the feeling of Cas's arms around him, gripping him tight as he was raised from hell. For years to come, the feeling of that embrace would haunt his dreams and every waking hour. Having them around him again, as he lay naked and vulnerable beneath him, had Dean ready to explode. "I remember," he whispered as Cas rocked against him. "I never forgot, Cas. I remember." He moaned. 

"Do you want me, Dean?" Cas whispered against his cheek, his chest pressing into Dean's back, making him slick with the hunters sweat. 

Dean knew what he meant, and they hadn't gone here yet. Though he was fairly sure it had been on both of their minds as of late, and Dean had to admit he was damn curious. Almost shyly, Dean nodded. "Yes, Cas." He groaned, "Please, baby." 

Leaving his right hand on Dean's arm, pressing into where the scar used to be, Cas released Dean with his left arm. He traced his fingers down Dean's arm, and then pressed one into Dean's mouth. Dean had never felt so aroused or nervous before in his life as he greedily sucked on Cas's fingers, salty with his own sweat. Cas pulled his fingers free, and brought his lips to Dean's as his left hand trailed between their bodies. Their tongues met as Castiel pressed one finger into him, and Dean moaned loudly into the angels mouth. He closed his eyes, his body reacting to the new sensations. Cas was gentle, and it wasn't long before uncomfortable became pleasurable. Cas pressed a second finger in and Dean could barely contain himself, his hips leaving the bed seeking more contact. 

Cas's hand gripped his arm tight, and Dean had a feeling he would have a bruise there the next day. The thought of a hand shaped bruise on his hand, something to remember this moment for days to come, had Dean absolutely mad with desire. He had never been so turned on in his life as he wriggled beneath his angel as a third finger sank into his virgin asshole. 

He let out a string of curses, his breathing coming out in several short gasping waves. "Fuck, Cas, oh holy fuck." Dean gasped, pressing his forehead into the bed as Cas's teeth sank into the sensitive area where his neck and shoulder met. "Oh fuck!" He cried, biting his lip against the pain and pleasure as Cas's fingers teased his asshole open gently. 

Dean felt delirious as sensation after sensation crashed over him, fingers and teeth and hips rocking and Cas's everywhere, everything he felt was Cas, and it was overwhelming. "Cas, please." He said, his hips rocking back against the angels, his body desperate for release. 

Cas's hand finally released his arm at the same moment he pulled his fingers away from Dean's puckered hole. Dean groaned with the sudden lack of contact, his heart hammering hard in his chest as Cas's body suddenly disappeared from his. He blinked, only having a moment to be surprised before his angel was back, a clear bottle in his hand. Dean heard the cap pop open and felt Cas's fingers, covered in cool slick lube, teased him open once more. Dean closed his eyes as Cas settled himself between his legs, his hands coming up under Dean's body, capturing the hunters fingers in his own. 

Dean gripped Cas's hands tight as the angel pressed into him. He closed his eyes, breathing deep as Cas stilled his movement, allowing Dean to get used to the feel of him. Dean bit his lip and Cas's hips rocked back an inch, before pressing forward again. 

He gasped, sure for a moment that it simply wasn't going to work, Cas just wasn't going to fit. And then in a rush Cas was inside him and he was on fire. He cried out, it hurt but felt good and good god was Dean turned on. He closed his eyes and Cas paused, his breathing coming out in short trembling gasps as he waited for Dean to grow accustomed to the sensation. Dean squeezed his fingers, and the angel pulled his hips back, his lips meeting the hunters as he thrust slowly back into him, 

Cas moved slowly, each measured thrust sending both of them closer and closer to the edge as they kissed passionately, their fingers digging into each others painfully. 

Dean was overwhelmed, realizing he had never felt so complete, so full, until the angel was inside him. He had never had so many sensations happening to him all at once, and as they rolled over him, his orgasm built, he broke from the angels lips and their eyes met. 

Cas's hips began to move faster, their eyes locked on each other as Dean grew closer and closer to ecstasy. "Fuck, Cas, holy hell, fuck." Dean groaned, his eyes closing as his orgasm drew more near. 

"Look at me, Dean." Cas growled, and the hunters eyes flew open, captured once again by azure blue. 

Dean was lost as his orgasm crashed over him, and Castiel followed him over the edge, wave after wave of sensation rolling over both of them as their hips rocked against each other. Dean pressed his forehead to Cas's, euphoria rolling over him as he lay still and sweating in his angels arms. "I love you, Cas." He said sleepily, the words tumbling from his lips before his mind had really processed them. It seemed like such a natural thing to say, but after his brain processed what he had just said his eyes flew open. 

Cas was smiling warmly at him, and he realized though he hadn't planned to say it this way, post coitus and everything, he meant them. Cas rolled away, and Dean groaned with the sudden loss of contact until he was in Cas's arms again, wrapped in the angel's embrace. 

"I love you too, Dean." The angel told him, pressing a kiss to the bruise on his shoulder. 

Dean could practically feel Cas's sudden embarrassment over the bruises on his body. "Don't you dare think about healing those." He warned the angel. 

Cas blinked in confusion, turning Dean so he faced him. "But... why?" 

Dean grinned wolfishly, pulling Cas to him for a kiss. "Because I like the reminder." 

Cas shook his head in confusion, he opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but Dean silenced him with a kiss. "They're mine." He whispered against the angels lips. "And I'm keeping them." 

Cas admitted defeat, and pulled his love into his arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he tumbled into sleep.


	24. Part 2- Chapter 12: Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Like many of you guys, I had my heart shattered by the election last night. I only have writing as my solace so here goes. I apologize if the next few chapters aren't up to my usual standard, I am admittedly distraught at the moment. Keep love in your hearts you guys, and keep pushing for a better tomorrow no matter who our president is. Just keep love in your hearts.

Mary climbed off the bus, glancing around at downtown New Orleans. She had been on a hunt here shortly before walking away completely, just a few short months after meeting John Winchester. He had been on her mind her entire time here, as surely as he was on her mind now. 

She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, trying to turn on her blasted cellphone and realizing the damn thing was dead. She sighed in frustration, hoping some day she remembered to charge it before leaving. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to the device. 

When she first arrived in her crappy motel room a few days ago she wasn't sure where she was going to go or what her plan was. She knew her honesty had hurt her boys, and it broke her heart into a million pieces. She would have spared them that, had she could, but she needed to get her mind straight. After weeping, panicking, and almost returning, she had finally settled on a plan. 

She knew she was honest with them when she had told them she missed John. He was her husband, and though it pained her greatly to know their relationship with him wasn't exactly the best, her heart still ached for him. 

Mary knew that she needed to see him, speak with him. She missed him dearly and was so angry and hurt and scared of what he would say. She wanted to scold him and bring him into her arms all in one moment. And she knew the only way she could do this was in New Orleans. 

She didn't know if it was a wild goose chase or not, but years and years ago, when she was in Louisiana last, there were rumors of a true medium. They were rare, and not something hunters typically bothered with; communing with the dead rarely did a whole lot of harm. 

Mary opened the map she had snagged from a bus stop along her route, thankful for something that wasn't electronic... a map she could use. She headed towards the nearest hotel, resolving to charge her phone and get a hold of her sons before trying to track down their dead fathers soul for a chit chat. The living do take precedence over the dead. 

She just knew she needed answers, and Sam's stories had chilled her to the bone. She needed to hear it from him, from John himself, what had happened. 

She needed to speak to her husband, and dead or alive, she was going to find a way to do it.


	25. Part 2- Chapter 13: Sam

Sam woke up feeling groggy, rubbing his eyes against a haze of hangover and exhaustion. The night before felt fuzzy and distant and vaguely he realized he was in a hotel room. He blinked, trying to remember what had happened... they had danced, laughed, touched, caressed, teased... he hadn't felt so invigorated by a presence in a very long time. She touched him and toyed with him in such subtle ways, always maintaining some distance, until suddenly she had leaned in too close and whispered. "Do you want to get out of here?" Her raspy voice sending a shiver down his spine he wouldn't soon forget. 

He hadn't even needed to answer as she took his hand in hers and lead him off the dance floor. He wasn't usually the type to hook up with some rando at the bar, but Faith was intoxicating and he wasn't about to say no to a good thing. 

They had ended up back here... the bruise on his shoulder could attest to the fact that they had enjoyed their evening together. He grinned remembering some of the things she did the night before, the brazen attitude and her physical capabilities alone were note worthy. He looked around the room, noting that she wasn't in bed, and he didn't notice any belongings around anymore. Last night there had been a duffel bag, and some clothes lying around but as he scanned the room he realized it was clean. She had moved on. 

The night before came back to him in flashes. Her hands moving across his skin, her tongue sliding against his, the strength of her thighs as he pinned her naked against a wall and plunged inside her. Sam was slightly startled that she was gone, realizing he had hardly known anything about her. 

His mind traveled over their encounter again and again, getting stuck on the more, ah, memorable, moments more often than not. He had never been hurting in the sex department, he was attractive enough that when he wanted to get laid he usually could; though he liked to think he didn't prowl the way Dean did. Or used to, he mused. He was used to sex, but he got his mind and body rocked the night before. The more he remembered the more he wanted to see that girl again. As far as one night stands go, she had been spectacular. 

He found himself feeling a little jilted as he gathered his clothes and looked around the empty room one last time. Part of him was terrified he wouldn't find the keys to the Impala but there they were, lying on the table where he left them. The car was parked as it has ever been. Part of him wondered if she had been a dream, but he knew she was real. She was unlike any lover he had ever had, doing things with her body he had never seen. But it was more than that, sure she was bendy which was always wonderful, but there was a fire and a passion in her eyes that was hard to find. His muscles had taken on a soreness that was rare for him to feel, and he had to admire her even more. She had certainly worn him out.

Still he didn't lament the loss of her for too long, it wasn't exactly like his lifestyle opened himself up to dating. Love 'em and leave 'em had sort of become his way of life, whether he ever intended for it to or not. 

He rolled the engine of the Impala over, listening to her purr. For all Dean's peacocking about the car, Sam cared about the hunk of metal probably as much as his brother ever had, and he patted her fondly as he headed back to the bunker.


	26. Part 2- Chapter 14: Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for delayed chapters lately guys, I am working a new job and the full time hours kinda monopolize my time a lot. But I will continue updating as much as I can as often as I can! Side Note: I know some of the lore in BtVS is very different from lore in SPN, so I am combining them as best as I can over the next few chapters. Hope you guys like!

Faith cut the engine to her bike, propping up the kickstand and swinging her leg over it. The tight leather pants she had on were so well worn in they slid across her thighs like butter, and she knew she probably looked fantastic from behind. She pulled her helmet over her head and secured it to her bike, running a hand along it and wiping away a couple of smudges. 

She knew the vamp nest she was tracking had stopped off at this town, the local new reports making their presence known. She stretched back, her muscles aching from her encounter with Sam, and she grinned to herself. 

It was a shame to leave him there, sprawled out and sleeping after they had worn each other out. She was impressed with his stamina, for the most part after one round a guy couldn't keep up, but Sam had little problem matching her pace and intensity. Still, she had a job to do and pretty boys were a liability in her line of work. 

She made her way to the hotel front desk and slapped some cash on the counter, leaving with a key. She tossed her bag onto the bed and opened it, grabbing her favorite steal blade, her flask of holy water and making sure her trusty wooden stake was strapped securely to her back. She shook her hair out and checked her dark lipstick in the mirror, simpering at her reflection before sticking the flat plastic key into an inside pocket of her jacket and making her way out the door again. 

She had been traveling about six hours and her muscles were jellied from the rumble of her bike, and she knew from experience that movement would help loosen them up. It was a little too early to hit the bar scene for information, so she decided on the next best place; the nail salon. 

There were two places that a girl could guarantee some gossip, one was in the local drinking hole where the friendly natives poured out their feelings, and the other was where ever the middle aged ladies congregated. 

Deciding she would probably win more favor in a less risque getup, she shimmied out of her leather riding pants and grabbed a comfortable pair of jeans and a neutral green tank top. She fluffed her curling brown hair one last time and made her way out the door. 

...

An hour later Faith left the salon with gorgeous glossy red nails and an idea of where the nest was hanging out. The people had all disappeared from the same three block radius, or so it had seemed. 

Faith had never been the 'make a plan' kinda fighter, she was a charge in guns blazing sort of gal and it had always served her well in the past. Well, except the time she got herself and several younger girls blown up, and several other times she had almost died... but if it aint broke, don't fix it. 

She made her way back to her hotel room, vowing to return to the hunting grounds after dark. These vamps had been a pain in her side for over a thousand miles, crossing over five different state lines. She was determined to see them ash before her day was done. So far they had managed to stay one step ahead of the slayer and it made her blood boil. 

She stretched out on her bed, deciding to get a quick nap before her hunt began in earnest.


	27. Not a chapter

I just wanted to apologize for the delay on this story my pc is currently down and I love you all. Will be continuing this story soon when the horrendous malware virus is gone. Thank you all for your patience!


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